


Warriors

by notmanos



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, like the universe makes sense, the crusades really were a shitshow, would you call this fighters to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmanos/pseuds/notmanos
Summary: Yusef kills a dangerous invader, but is soon plunged into a mystery, when a strange dream reveals to him that he might not be dead after all. (This is Outcasts, but told from Joe's point of view.)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Warriors

Yusef knew he was trouble the second he saw him. 

Admittedly, he was one of a dozen of invaders, funneled into the courtyard designed a killing zone, because the terraces gave them a chance to attack from above as well as on ground level. He was one of the first to do a smart thing, which was hold his flimsy shield over his head, and then he started cutting a swath through the group.

Most of the invaders used their swords like tools, like chopping implements they barely understood, but this man knew what he was doing. He was slashing and hacking to get clear, but it was strategic, almost surgical - he went after necks or head, thighs or knees. He wanted them dead or down or both, without wasted energy. And he was on a mission. He had a target and he was moving towards it. 

Yusef raced down the stairs, headed for the courtyard. He had to stop that bastard before he got loose in the city. 

He exited the rear of the building, and pulled out his scimitar before creeping quietly into the alley, waiting for the invader to join him. Yusef knew he had a gift for hiding in shadows, and that’s where he was when the invader finally cut through the group. He threw aside his shield, which broke apart upon hitting the ground. He was still holding his sword, which was dripping with blood. Just seeing it made Yusef furious all over again. 

He closed the distance before he turned around, and the moment he did, Yusef ran him through, plunging his scimitar straight through his heart. The invader was younger than he expected, with shoulder length hair the color of straw, and bluish green eyes that were now wide with surprise and fear. Yusef considered cursing him, but why bother? He was dead, and he knew it. He ripped out his sword, accompanied by a massive gush of blood that Yusef barely avoided. His body didn’t fall more than crumple, like a puppet with its strings cut. One less invader to worry about.

He walked away, leaving the body for the vermin. 

**

That night, Yusef was woken up by a bizarre dream. It was a little muddled and disjointed, almost like a hashish dream, but he hadn’t been partaking of that. 

There were fragments of this woman he had never seen before ... in China? The landscape looked a bit like that, as did her clothes, but green, mountainous regions could look very much the same. Going by her dress alone, he stuck with China. 

She said something, but he couldn’t quite understand her. He wasn’t sure if it was a language gap, or simply the weirdly frustrating nature of dreams as a whole. 

But that lead to a jarring image of the invader he had killed. He felt a pain in his chest - the stabbing? - and saw him wake up from the ground. Which was clearly dream logic, as no one was killed and got better. But Yusef woke up with the strangest feeling in his gut. Was that actually a dream? If it wasn’t, what the hell was it?

It was still night, but he knew he was getting no rest after that. He got dressed, and went out to see if the corpse of the invader was still in the alley. When he arrived and saw nothing but a partially washed out pool of blood, he assumed there was a good explanation for that. He tracked down Asif, who was in charge of clearing out the corpses, and asked him about the one in the alley. Asif stared at him like he was insane. “What corpse in the alley?”

Yusef decided he was going to be logical about this. One of his assistants grabbed the body, and didn’t tell Asif. It was a grim job, and as a rule didn’t engender many conversations. It meant nothing. Dreams - or hallucinations, or whatever it was - weren’t real. No one got up after being stabbed in the heart. He remembered the volume of blood that pulseed out as soon as he withdrew his blade. Dark heart’s blood. That was an instantly fatal wound. In fact, it was probably a quicker death than he deserved. 

Yusef’s next step was to go to the area where they stored the weapons of fallen invaders. Even if they lost track of a single body, they wouldn’t lose track of the sword. Most of the invaders came with poorly maintained weapons, with dull edges and serious nicks in the blade. Most of these weapons were melted down for their metals, or reused in some other way. But the sword that invader had was good. It had sharp edges and was intact. If it was in the pile, Yusef would have found it.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t here. 

Someone else could have recognized its quality and kept it. Again, that was logical. Frowned upon, but still it occasionally happened. 

At a certain point, he realized he was trying to mentally convince himself this meant nothing. All of this together meant nothing. Yet he still couldn’t quite believe it. He remembered that dream fragment, the invader waking up and grabbing his sword, and it felt more real than it had any right to. But that didn’t happen. This was a logical universe, and the dead didn’t walk.

He could remember his sister Nasira chiding him, “Where’s your poetry, Yusef? Use your imagination.” He liked to think he wasn’t quite the serious and stolid person he had been as a child. Art had helped him find his poetry. But this wasn’t a case of poor imagination - this was madness. Dead was dead. 

Walking back home he was shocked to find the sky lightening above him. He’d been working on this all night? He shook his head at himself. Stupid. What was he, a child? This was like believing in a fairy tale. What an utter waste of time. 

And that’s when the crossbow bolt sliced through his back.

Yusef dropped to his knees before he was even aware of what had happened, and was reaching for his scimitar, although it seemed to be farther away than it should have been. The pain had exploded with an electric jolt, like he’d been struck by lightning, but now a numbing cold was filling him. Perhaps it was better than pain, but it was just as ominous. 

A figure came scuttling out from a side street, a hood pulled low over his face, but he showed himself to Yusef as he closed in with his crossbow, and Yusef refused to believe it.

It was the invader. The dead one. No longer dead. His eyes had a crazy gleam to them, like he was on the edge of madness. “Remember me?” he said, before firing his second bolt. 

Yusef remembered the pain of the arrow bursting through his chest, and then all was darkness. 

**

Until he woke up.

Yusef gasped and reflexively reached for the arrow in his chest, but it was no longer there. It was on the ground with the arrow that had been in his back, both floating in a generous pool of blood. His blood.

Yusef pushed himself up to a sitting position, trying to make sense of this.

Before he opened his eyes, he had hallucinated again. That woman, trying to tell him something that was lost in translation, and the invader. Only this time, he had a sense of a pain from the invader, but not physical pain. He was terrified. Was it because he knew what he was, or because he didn’t know what he was? 

Yusef knew, if he had any sense, he’d be terrified too. Somehow he wasn’t. Logical universe, right? If this was happening - and it seemed insane, but he had a very clear memory of being killed - there had to be a reason for it. It was up to him to find it, but there must have been logic buried in here somewhere. 

He stood up, glad there were no witness beside his half-mad assailant, and went home. Yusef told himself that he would figure this out, but he had no idea how. He poked his thumb with a needle, and watched the blood well up and slowly be pulled back in as the tiny wound healed. All right, he was healing better, but how did that equal not dead? You couldn’t heal from death. Normally. 

To his shock, he was hungry, so he had something to eat, and waited to see how his formerly dead stomach handled it. The answer was as normal - there was no change. He wasn’t a walking corpse. He was still breathing, still human ... correct? Could he prove he was or wasn’t? Oh, he really didn’t think he could handle this. He always liked having philosophical debates with Sadiq, but this felt a level apart. 

He made himself think logically. What was the next step? If he was investigating this, he knew exactly where he would start. But after thinking about it for a moment, Yusef realized he didn’t have to go anywhere. They shared a dream or hallucination, whichever, and the invader knew he was alive. 

He’d be coming back. And Yusef would be ready for him.

**

The invaders attacked the southeast wall of the city, away from all the terraced buildings, but they could still funnel them into a kill zone. It would simply be all on the ground, hand to hand, and a bloody, gory mess. A type of battle that didn’t have winners more than it had survivors. 

Raising some eyebrows, Yusef was on the front lines with the rest of the soldiers. As a strategist, he’d earned a place farther away, but that never really set well with him. He had not trained for years to sit apart and watch as his people were picked off like common rats. 

There was no delicacy here, no time to plan or counterstrike - it was simply stabbing and slashing, and trying to kill more of them than they killed of yours. Within five minutes he had blood splattered on his face. WIthin ten, he was soaked in it. The dirt below their feet was blood soaked mud. 

Yusef wasn’t quite sure if he died again or not. He may have passed out, and it was hard to say which, since they both ended the same way. Also, they now began the same, with him waking up where and when he hadn’t expected to. Malak and Ziyad had seen him fall after he took a bone deep sword blow to the upper leg - fatal in most instances - but he’d stopped bleeding by the time they reached him and pulled him out of the battle, and they never saw the injury. He tried to convince them he’d taken a knock on the head, but he wasn’t sure they believed him. In their shoes, he wouldn’t have either.

He’d recovered enough to rejoin the battle, but stopped as he saw a whirling dervish with a sword cutting down people like wheat. It was his invader again, now behaving like a viking berserker of lore, slashing through people with a gleam in his eye that could only be madness. He was feral, covered in blood and almost foaming at the mouth. Yusef retreated to the shadows and watched him, wondering what had happened to the man with the grace and the instincts he’d seen in the first battle. Was he gone for good?

Yusef assumed he’d try to escape deeper into the city, and he did. As soon as he was alone and had his back turned, Yusef moved in for the kill. He stabbed the sword straight through him, blade bursting out of his chest before Yusef wrapped an arm around his throat, and whispered, “Remember me?” He ripped the sword out, but before he could fall. he caught his body in one arm.

Yusef sheathed his scimitar, and then threw the corpse of his invader over his shoulder. As an afterthought, he grabbed his fancy sword. He knew he might be questioned for this behavior, but Yusef figured, if anyone asked, he’d say he had a plan. Yusef had no idea what that plan was, but he hoped he’d be able to think of something plausible. Luckily, he wasn’t pressed. 

Once he was home, he tied the invader to a chair, and went to clean up. He had a suspicion this talk wasn’t going to go well, but he thought it would go even worse if he was a blood drenched horror. He didn’t have high hopes regardless, but this was the only place he could think to look for answers.

He was barely settled in his chair when the invader raised his head and looked around. Yusef had been hoping the madness would be gone since he was out of the battle, but it was still there. “What are you?” he asked.

The invader stared at him. “You know my language?”

“It helps to know the language of your invaders. They have a tendency to say important things around you if they think you don’t understand. But, answer my question. What are you?”

There was something unsettled in his eyes. Madness, yes, but something else. “Why don’t you tell me, since you did this to me.”

Of all the things he expected him to say, that hadn’t occurred to him. “What?”

“When you killed me the first time, you cursed me.”

He knew the invaders seemed somewhat simple, but this was ridiculous. “I what?”

The madness flared. “You cursed me! I can’t die! What did you do to me?” 

“You really think I did this.” How far gone was he? “I did nothing but defend my home.”

“And I am a soldier, doing my job. Take this from me. I don’t care how, rid me of this hex.”

Yusef had heard tales of the invaders being driven mad. Had it happened to this one too? Was there any way to ground him again? “You’ve dreamed of me too, haven’t you? And the woman?” 

He didn’t know what played across the man’s face. It was too fleeting. But he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He was hunched forward slightly, like he was trying to let the ropes hold him up. 

“Let’s start at the beginning. My name is Yusef. What’s your name?”

He thought he might not answer. But after a moment, he said in a whisper, “Nicolo.”

“Okay, Nicolo. I think something has happened to us. We seem to have the same ...affliction.” Yusef didn’t know what else to call it, and it didn’t help matters that he had to put it in another language. Sometimes there weren’t equivalent words, only the closest thing to it. 

“This is Hell,” Nicolo said, his voice stronger. “We can’t die because we’re already dead.”

Yusef gave him minor credit. It was an answer. Not a sane one, but still. “I assure you I wouldn’t be in your religion’s Hell.”  That made him open his eyes. The madness was still there, but something was starting to swallow it - sorrow.  “Also, my brother-in-law is still dead. As is Ahmed and Tahir. Your friends are still dead, yes?”

It seemed to take a moment for his words to filter through. “I think so ...”

“So why only us? If this is your Hell, as you seem to think, why are we the only ones who can’t die?”

Nicolo grimaced as he thought about it, and started shaking his head. That muscle in his jaw started jumping again, and he couldn’t make eye contact with him. “I don’t know. We’re being punished.”

“For what?”

Nicolo was still shaking his head, but now Yusef noticed he was rocking slightly in his chair, and his eyes were shiny with unshed tears. He recognized some of this behavior, and Yusef’s stomach sunk. There really would be no getting any answers out of him. “Everything.” He closed his eyes, and lowered his chin to his chest. “Everything.”

“Nicolo?” he asked, hoping for some reaction. But Nicolo’s whole posture seemed to echo a closed fist. If Yusef cut him loose now, he’d probably curl up in a ball on the floor. He knew the medics sometimes referred to it as a “fit”, although that term seemed imprecise. But what else did you call this? 

Yusef went to him, and crouched by the chair. When he didn’t react to him in any way, Yusef put a hand on Nicolo’s cheek, and asked, “You still with me?”

Nicolo leaned into him before opening his eyes. Dried blood was speckled across his face, making him look fearsome, which was why it was so astounding when tears started rolling down his cheeks. “I tried to atone. I came to fight a war in his name. Why isn’t that enough? Why won’t God forgive me?”

Yusef hated the invaders. He didn’t understand them or their aims, or why they were so bound and determined to start a war with them. But in this moment, he pitied Nicolo. His faith was fracturing, and he was falling into the rubble. “A god that requires you to kill for him is no God at all.” He undid the ropes, and let them fall to the floor. Right now, Nicolo was more of a danger to himself than anyone else.

Nicolo was shaking and sobbing, like the sorrow was trying to rip him apart from the inside, and Yusef wished he didn’t know that feeling too. “I tried. I tried to atone. Why wasn’t it enough? I did everything they said.”

Nicolo slid off the chair, and Yusef caught him as he collapsed against his shoulder, continuing to cry like he had lost everything. And maybe he had. 

He didn’t know too many things about the faith of the invaders, but it was easy to see their Church had failed them. 

**

He took Nicolo to a side room, and gave him a bed to sob on, which he did with little awareness that his surroundings had changed. Yusef honestly didn’t know what state he’d be in when he was done. Was his sanity gone? Was it a “spell” and he’d still be there? He supposed they’d both find out. 

So the invader had no answers for him. The logical next move was to find the woman. But how? China was no small country, and he’d have to have lots of luck in trying to find her. 

No, come to think of it, he wouldn’t. If there was some reason behind this “gift” of immortality, or whatever it was, there had to be a reason for the dreams too. Drawing them together? Perhaps. If that was true, though, he didn’t need luck. He simply needed to pick a direction. If they were meant to find each other, they would. 

After watching a man self-destruct over the death of his faith, he was asking himself to believe in another kind. Could he? 

It would be easy to leave everything here he didn’t need anymore to Navid. He had enough money to travel. He even knew of a short cut that would take a chunk out of time, although it would put him in the harshest parts of the desert. But he’d traveled it before, and while uncomfortable, it would put him in China before winter began. It would be worth the risk. 

He’d had his plan worked out, and was brewing some tea, when Nicolo suddenly stumbled into the room. He looked dazed, but the gleam of madness was gone. The sorrow was still there. Or was that just his eyes? He didn’t know him well enough to say. “Good, you’re up. I was about to check on you.”

Nicolo seemed confused. “Why didn’t you kill me again? Or turn me over to your people?”

“To what end? I don’t know what happened to us, but I think we were meant to find each other.”

“For what possible reason? To kill each other again and again until it takes?”

“That would be stupid, wouldn’t it?” He gestured to the table, and after a moment of consideration, Nicolo took a seat. He didn’t know if he liked mint tea, but it would be rude not to offer him some, so he gave him a cup. It did strike him as funny he was worried about being rude to a man he’d killed twice now. Wasn’t that far ruder?

Yusef sat and had some of his tea before he spoke again. “I had never considered it a negative before. I was surprised to find you did.”

Nicolo grimaced. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“There’s no need for shame. You’re not the first man I’ve seen broken by war.”

He looked away, not meeting his eyes. “I thought I was stronger than that.”

“War destroys us all. Only a beast would be untouched by its horrors.”

“You seem fine.”

Yusef would have laughed, if it was at all funny. “Only because you missed my breakdown.” Nicolo looked at him, and Yusef gave him a weak half smile. “I told myself I had to be strong for my family. After the death of Sadiq, my brother-in-law, I sent my sister and her son up north, to escape the war. Only when I was alone here did I give myself the luxury of falling apart.” He’d only just finished patching up the holes he put in the walls. He was glad no one had ever seen the signs of his outbursts. 

Nicolo was studying him like he wasn’t sure he should believe him. But there was no benefit to lying about such a thing, and he must have come to that same conclusion. “Am I your prisoner?”

“No. You’re free to leave if you want. But we should probably stop killing each other, though.”

Nicolo’s lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. “I have nowhere to go. I think my people think I’m dead, and that’s probably for the best.”

He nodded. “Some of my people saw me die. I think I convinced them I was only injured, but they know better.” Malak looked like he was trying to buy it, but the confusion was written all over Zayid’s face. He knew something unbelievable had occurred, but he hadn’t even begun to process it. “I’m thinking of going to find the woman.”

“You think she’s real?”

That question was puzzling. Did he think this was all a hallucination? Well, he thought it was Hell. Maybe some part of him was still holding on to that. “We are, and she might have answers for us. Or maybe not, but it’s a start.”

Nicolo gave him a suspicious look. “How do you know where she is?”

“I don’t. But she was wearing Asian garments, so heading east seems wisest. If I stick to larger settlements, maybe I can meet her half way.” 

Nicolo considered that for a long moment, staring down at the table like there was something worth looking at. “Can I come with you?”

Yusef had actually been hoping he would ask. He was still convinced they were meant to find each other. Beyond that, he wasn’t sure. “if you like. But -“

”- no more killing each other,” Nicolo interrupted, nodding. 

“If we run into any of my people, you may have to play prisoner.”

He sighed, and weariness was written all over his face. “I figured as much.”

Again, Yusef didn’t want to feel sorry for this invader. He’d killed him after all, and maybe a dozen of his people. But somehow he still did. 

Yusef made up a story about Nasira being unwell, and him having to travel up north to them. Navid bought it, although he seemed suspicious, making Yusef wonder if Zayid had started talking about what happened. It was bound to get out - he just hoped he could leave before things got really dicey. 

He also retrieved Nicolo’s sword from the place he’d hidden it. He didn’t want Nicolo to grab it and try and kill his way out, but that seemed unlikely. He cleaned the dried blood off of it, and studied it up close.

Ornately etched sword, well weighted, not a decorative piece. He could do some real damage with this. What were the odds this was the nicest thing he owned? Judging from his clothing, Yusef bet it was pretty good odds. He dried the sword, and wrapped it up in a blanket. 

After a hastily thrown together dinner that Nicolo wolfed down like he was starving - and he’d heard tales that there were lots of these invaders who came here without adequate water, food, or protection from the weather, so it was completely possible he was - they headed out to leave through the city’s rear gate. He’d asked Navid to leave him two horses there, with one for supplies, which made him give him a funny look, but Yusef paid him up front. Navid kept his end of the bargain, and Yusef kept the guards distracted while Nicolo snuck past them. He was good at being stealthy when he wanted to be. That was good to know. 

Yusef looked back at the city, which was barely visible now that night was setting in. Would he ever see it again? He wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He should be staying to protect his city ... but he was one man among many. He wouldn’t be missed. One general falls, and another takes his place. No one piece was irreplaceable. Such was the nature of war.

While Nicolo tried clumsily to mount the horse - he’d claimed he’d ridden before, but Yusef had severe doubts - Yusef pulled out the rolled blanket that contained his sword, and handed it to him. He seemed dubious, until he unwrapped it and saw what it was. “I saw the etching on it. I thought it might be an heirloom.”

Nicolo stared at it, like it was equally a good memory and a very bad one. He was a very curious creature. “Thank you.”

Nicolo managed to mount what had luckily turned out to be a very patient horse, and they set off east, using a less traveled path in hopes of avoiding notice. Yusef knew he was going to have to get used to traveling in darkness, avoiding others, but at least he had experience with it. 

His old life was dead. It was a weird thought, but he had to leave old Yusef behind, because he couldn’t be that man anymore. He’d miss his sister and his nephew, but they’d have a good life without him. Nasira was smart and resourceful, and her son would probably be the same way. But who was Yusef supposed to be now? It was an unexpected question, and he mused over it for most of the night. If old him was gone, who was new him?

They made a nomadic encampment by daybreak, where Yusef was able to trade the horses for a camel. Nicolo’s reaction to the camel was hilarious. He assumed Nicolo had never seen one before, and didn’t trust it, basically hiding behind Yusef if it even moved its head in their direction. Honestly, Yusef wasn’t fond of camels either - they were troublesome beasts, and they smelled terrible - but they were going through a particularly harsh swath of desert, and horses would die out there. The camel wouldn’t. You might want it to die, but unless you helped it do so, it most likely wouldn’t.

He made sure they had what they needed, and headed out. He was exhausted - they had been riding all night, after all - but he wanted to get them on their way. He did stop and make camp before Nicolo fell off the camel, but just barely.

Nicolo did remain oddly fascinating. From what he said, his life was a rolling tragedy, from being orphaned and left with a church that barely kept him alive, to being sent here to fight for a cause he didn’t completely understand. He was almost as much of a victim as those in the city, save for the dead, who were the true victims here. But he didn’t seem naturally war like at all. In fact, he had a weird sort of gentleness about him that Yusef found calming. He fought because he had to, and because he was good at it. He didn’t fight because he wanted to, and that was a distinction worth making. 

He couldn’t help but notice his eyes changed color too. Or at least seemed to be different colors depending on the light. When it was relentlessly sunny, his eyes were the pale blue of shallow water, but when it was darker, you could see more green in them. Yusef decided he had stormy sea eyes. Sometimes the dominant color changed, but always in the center was this dark pit of sorrow and quiet. His personality reflected that, because he could go long periods without talking, and Yusef didn’t mind that. In fact, he didn’t mind him, which was a little strange. But right now, everything was strange. 

Yusef was usually up before Nicolo, and by the time he awoke, Yusef usually had the entire camp packed up by the time he emerged from his tent. He’d just finished rolling up his tent when he heard an unusual sound, and saw that they were being approached by men on horseback. Out here? Yusef wondered briefly if he was hallucinating again, but dismissed it, as he wasn’t prone to flights of fancy, not even after dying and returning to life. 

The men were of Nicolo’s ilk, even though their skin was now red from relentless exposure to the sun. In fact, Yusef could tell by looking at them they were already half dead from dehydration. They had maybe ten hours before they were no longer able to function. There seemed to be no water skins or other drinking vessels with their meager packs. Did none of these people have any sense? Their horses looked a bit better, but they were clearly a new edition to the group. They had red reins and some decorative elements that Yusef recognized from a nearby tribe. They had stolen them, hadn’t they? As far as he knew, that tribe was not inclined to sell. 

Their leader was bear of a man with a bushy beard the color of old blood, darker than his burned skin, his eyes the color of the sky as seen through a broken skull. He radiated menace without trying hard, although Yusef found it funny. He was supposed to be afraid of a man with no more sense than a goat?

He barked gibberish at him, or made a noise that cracked through his dry throat, and it took repetition and a couple of meaningless gestures before Yusef figured it out. “Are you trying to say something in my language?” he asked in theirs. 

The three men all stared at him like he was horse that talked. “You speak our language?” the bearded man replied stupidly.

Yusef was tempted to say  _ no  _ and see what happened, but these men had some serious dying of thirst to do, and who was he to waste their time? “Yes. What are you doing out here? You’re far from your base.”

“We’re not with the army anymore. We work for ourselves now.”

“Do you? What kind of work are you doing?”

The three men exchanged a look, and the smallest one of them snickered. “We ... redistribute wealth,” the bearded man said, then grinned as if this was clever. For him, it probably was. 

“You’re aware there aren’t many wealthy people in the desert, yes?”

The third man, who seemed to be the perfect middle height between the bearded man and the short one, admitted, “We got lost.” The short one elbowed him, and he scowled at him. 

“Maybe you could do us a favor,” the bearded man said. “You could probably point us in the right direction. Maybe escort us to a settlement.”

Was it a symptom of their burns, or did they really think he was that dumb? “And I’m supposed to believe you’re not going to kill me?”

Before the bearded man could reply, Nicolo emerged from his tent, holding his sword, and the men stared at him in utter shock. For his part, Nicolo quickly glanced at him before turning his gaze on the men. Again, there was a look on Nicolo’s face too brief for him to interpret, but ... was he worried about him? 

“Nicolo?” the bearded man said. “I thought you were dead.”

He was staring at them like he didn’t recognize them, but they knew his name. Nicolo did recognize them. He also didn’t care. “And I thought you were. What are you doing here?”

The middle one barked a laugh. “Us? What the hell are you doing with this heathen?”

Yusef had played along, throwing dying men a bone, but he wasn’t about to stand here and be insulted. “If you don’t want to die today, I suggest you leave.”

The bearded man gave him an annoyed look, and waved his hand in front of his face like Yusef was an insect. “You’re outnumbered, Saracen. Can’t you count?”

“What are you doing?” Nicolo asked. His lips had thinned, and those stormy eyes were back, along with that jumping muscle in his jaw. These men were treading on dangerous ground, and they didn’t seem to realize it. 

“They’re thieves,” Yusef informed him. “They’ve been robbing anyone they find, but it seems they lost their way.”

“All this sand looks the same,” the short one complained. Notably, no one denied Yusef’s assessment. 

“This war isn’t for us,” the bearded one said, appealing to Nicolo. “They’ll give us nothing of what they promised. They expect us to die out here with all this damned heat and sand and heathens. Might as well take what we can while we can, eh?”

Nicky nodded, but his eyes were cold. “Yusef is right. You need to leave now.”

“You’re on a first name basis with this one?” the bearded man said. Yusef resented the way he said it. “What have you been doing out here?”

Nicolo gave him a scowl that could have carved stone, and laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You won’t be warned twice.”

Yusef looked at Nicolo, hoping he understood his tacit question, and after a moment, he understood and gave him a small nod. These were his people, and he wanted to make sure they were united on their reaction. 

The bearded one finally realized this wasn’t going his way, and roared as he swung sword at Nicolo. It was a terrible attempt at a chop, and Nicolo sidestepped it before pulling his sword.

The middle man lunged at Yusef, and all he had to do was raise his sword and let the idiot impale himself on it, which he promptly did. He’d barely pulled his scimitar out when the smaller man attacked, but he was no better at this than any of the others. Yusef smacked away his sword, and ran him through. How could they be this shit at fighting and still be alive? Perhaps this was the effects of dehydration. 

Yusef wiped off his blade on the dead man’s clothes, as blood could be hell on a sword. When he glanced back at Nicolo, he was sheathing his sword, as the bearded one was dead on the ground, his blood staining the sand. “Sorry about your friends,” Yusef said, and almost meant it. 

He grimaced. “They weren’t my friends. Just men I barely knew.”

“So you won’t object to leaving them for the carrion birds?” There really wasn’t much else they could do with them. 

“Absolutely not.” He looked down at them with undisguised disgust, and Yusef understood the feeling. 

They took the horses with them, as they didn’t deserve to die out here, and they stopped by a small outpost to trade them for supplies. The man who took the horses noted the reins on him as he had, but said nothing. There were rumors that they bred fine horses, and people were constantly trying to steal them, so maybe this had made him a rich man. But he gave nothing away, which was impressive. 

The next day, Nicolo remained more quiet than not, and Yusef occasionally checked on him to make sure he wasn’t upset about his acquaintances. He didn’t seem to be. He was just one of those people who retreated inside themselves. As far as traveling companions went, that made him ideal. 

Finally they came to what Yusef thought as the halfway point, at least for this desert. It was a jagged rock outcropping that seemed to come out of nowhere, with striated, sand colored peaks rising upward, grouped in a rough semi-circle. It was a natural windbreak, which was rare enough out here, but he knew its secret too. There wasn’t so much a cave as a slight hollow in one of the rocks, where a natural spring could be found. It was very fickle. Sometimes there was quite a bit of water to extract from it, and sometimes there was nothing but wet sand. They had enough water, so of course the spring was abundant this time. If they’d needed water, Yusef was willing to bet it would be dry. But he couldn’t complain, because it gave him enough water to wash with, which was a luxury out here. He felt better after washing all the dust - and some blood - off of his skin. As soon as Nicolo learned that was an option, he washed himself off at the spring as well. His hair went from brownish blond to blondish brown, although that may have simply been a trick of the light combined with an unconscionable amount of dust. 

There was also some scrub vegetation that the camel was happy to tear out, although there was some question if it was eating it, or simply destroying it because it could. It wasn’t the worst beast he’d ever been around, but it was far from the best. 

After dinner, Yusef did his best to show Nicolo where they were and where they were headed by drawing in the sand. Maybe that wasn’t smart? He could kill him and run off, leaving him here, but he trusted him. It wasn’t smart, yet he did it anyway. 

Later on, he found Nicolo laying down by the fire, looking up at the stars. The sky in the desert was fascinating. During the day, it seemed shallow and endless, an oppressive roof suspended over your head. At night, it became endless in a good way. It was a canopy far beyond your reach, made up of eternal dark and thousands of stars. He’d tried to draw it once, but couldn’t capture it. It seemed to be a very specific optical illusion, that was no less breathtaking for it. 

He laid down next to Nicolo and tried to view the patch of sky he was looking at. “What do you call your constellations?”

“Personally? Stars.”

That made Yusef smile. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, but I’ve never been able to see constellations.They tried to teach me, but I never saw the shapes other people claimed to see. I just pretended I did so they’d leave me alone.”

That sounded familiar. When he realized why, he stared at Nicolo until he looked at him. “What?”

Not for the first time, Yusef noticed how handsome he was, even in shadowed profile. With the light of the fire behind him, he couldn’t see what color his eyes had settled upon tonight. “Do you realize how many stories you tell end with you being alone?”

He frowned, clearly thinking about it. “Huh.”

“You prefer being alone?” He didn’t really blame him for that. Everyone needed some place to breathe, to be themselves. But after a while, it did get lonely.

“In my experience, people usually want something from you. It’s best to keep to yourself, especially if you have nothing to give.”

“That’s so sad.” 

Nicolo stared at him, and once again, Yusef wasn’t sure what his expression was telling him. It was intense, and a little sad, but that described him in general. Finally, he grimaced. “We’re from different worlds. If it means anything, I prefer yours.”

Yusef had the urge to touch him, to run his thumb along his jawline, but he repressed it, because that was one of his strengths. “We have a chance to become better than we are.”

“What?”

“We don’t die. We might not be able to live among normal people too long, without them noticing. So we can be anyone we want. We can leave our old selves behind and become something new.” He still hadn’t decided on his new self yet, but the idea was both terrifying and exhilarating. 

Nicolo shifted slightly, leaning in towards him. “You think that’s possible?”

“I think we can stop limiting ourselves now. Nothing is impossible, if we exist.”

After a long moment, Nicolo touched his face, putting his palm on Yusef’s cheek. Yusef’s heart skipped a beat. What was this? Was this what he thought it was? 

It was. Nicolo leaned forward and kissed him. 

It was like lightning struck him. He felt the electricity run down his spine, and felt it tingle in his fingertips. Yusef kissed him back, unable to control himself. He’d been wanting to do this for days.

Nicolo pulled him into his arms, and rolled so Yusef was on top of him. He shifted his weight and slid his hands beneath Nicolo’s shirt. His skin was hot in spite of the night chill, and Yusef felt himself losing control. This could be very wrong; this could be a huge mistake. 

Yusef broke their kiss, which was almost painful, and caught his breath. Nicolo put a hand in his hair, and he could see his stormy sea eyes were blue-green tonight. God, he really was beautiful. “Nicolo, I -“

“No more talking,” he said, and kissed him again. The tiny bit of willpower Yusef had managed to scare up melted away, and he had no desire to try and find it again.

Their lovemaking was initially clumsy and awkward, and then sweet and intense. Nicolo tasted like the sea, like dew on grass, and Yusef didn’t want to let him go. When he woke up, he looked at Nicolo’s sleeping face, seeing him truly relaxed and at peace. Had he ever seen him looking this at ease? Not since he’d known him, but admittedly, their meeting was unusual. 

He got up carefully, not wanting to disturb him, and went outside. The sun had risen, but the heat of the day hadn’t set in yet. Yusef kicked sand on the still smoldering fire, putting it out, and wondering if this was new him. Could it be? More importantly, did he want it to be? Which was a stupid question, because a million times yes.

This could still end badly. Nicolo could decide he’d made a huge mistake, and shatter him into a thousand pieces, but that was the thing about life. You had to try, and if it didn’t work, it didn’t. He wouldn’t have traded last night for anything. 

He got dressed, and packed up his unused tent. He was considering getting some breakfast when Nicolo emerged from his tent, a blanket wrapped around him. His hair was messy and eyes more blue today, and he was utterly lovely in the golden rays of the sun. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he said, and kissed him. Yusef couldn’t help but kiss him back, and slipped his arms around him. Yusef had a feeling he wasn’t going to be packing up anymore things today. 

Nicolo broke away before things got more heated, and rested his forehead against Yusef’s. “We don’t have to leave right now. One day won’t make a difference, will it?”

“No.” Yusef moved his hand up to the side of Nicolo’s neck, where he could feel his heart beating, and the warmth of his skin. They had been dead, and now they were alive. They had been enemies, and now they weren’t. Life was so strange. Did this toss his logical universe philosophy out the window? Yusef didn’t much care if it did.

He took a deep breath, and did his best to suppress his desire. Again, he was good at that. He really needed to work on being terrible at it. “If this doesn’t work out with the woman, we don’t have to stay. We can go anywhere you want. We can go back to your home.”

Nicolo put a hand on his chest, over his heart. “I’m already home.”

Yusef’s breath briefly caught in his throat. He didn’t know exactly what that meant ... except, no, he was lying to himself. He did know what it meant, and he felt the same way. He felt connected to Nicolo in a way that was bizarre, terrifying, and glorious. 

He kissed him, and decided the rest of the world could wait just a little bit longer. After all, his whole world was right here.

* * *

The End


End file.
